


Dance with the devil.

by Rogue1987



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Domestic Fluff, Dominance, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marco has a kink, Secret Relationship, Step-parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-26 09:32:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3845872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogue1987/pseuds/Rogue1987
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This will be a collection of drabbles about Marco and Pocho's relationship. So if you have any prompts please send them to me. </p><p>Frankly I'm surprised that there aren't more stories on them.<br/>They are so cute and (b)romantic together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That's enough.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first Marco/Pocho fic and I couldn't resist it after seeing those 'Marco Basta!' gifs on Tumblr. 
> 
> I wanna post more stories about them on this fic, but I also take requests so please send them to me.

Paris.

 

It had all started after that blasted game against Olympic Lyon over a year ago.  
Marco had misbehaved himself against the referee as usual, whining about his yellow card until the poor man's ears bled thanks to his semi Italian, semi French babbling.

Eventually Pocho had to be the one who dragged him away from the ref and started shouting _'' Marco Basta!''_ in his ears.

Showing him his most ferocious dark looks and Marco was tempted to let it go but to his horror he discovered that he _liked_ seeing this side of Pocho so he decided to annoy the ref some more, leading to even more rage from his teammate.

He was being dragged away by Pocho strong arms and he grinned amused trying to ignore the boner that was growing in his pants.  
Oh now this was going to be fun.

After the game Pocho drove him home like he always did but that night Marco needed more than the regular goodnight kiss to his cheek.

''Wanna come in for a drink?'' he flirted, his blue eyes sparkling in the dark, from under his long lashes and Pocho sighed.

''Marco I really should get home, the babysitter leaves in less than an hour,'' he said, checking his watch critically.

''Please? Just call her and ask if she can stay a little while longer,'' Marco begged, need rising in his voice and Pocho nodded slow, unable to resist his gorgeous blues probably.

''Fine you win, I hate never being able to say no to you,'' he grimaced but his brown eyes twinkled cheekily and he winked.

''Nah you love me,'' Marco concluded and Pocho didn't even argue that, much to Marco's pleasure.

He parked his car on Marco's driveway and told Marco he had called the nanny to tell her he was going to be late tonight.

Afterward he followed Marco into his house and saw his friend pour them two glasses of Limoncello, Marco's absolute favorite drink.

Pocho also loved it, he and Edi would always drink it when they were playing for Napoli.  
''So what's all this about then?'' Pocho murmured when they sat down on Marco's black couch and he took a small sip of his drink.

''I think you know,'' Marco hummed mysteriously and Pocho sighed deep.  
''Marco I'm not in the mood for your stupid games after what you pulled on me today,''

''What did I do?'' Marco gasped trying to sound innocent but Pocho knew him better than that.

''You were _completely_ out of line against the ref today and you know it.  
And then you were out of line to me! I told you to back the fuck up and you just waltzed right back in to piss him off even more. Why don't you ever just do what you're bloody told!'' Pocho reprimanded voice thick with anger and Marco loved it.

Somehow seeing his dark side turned on a very naughty side to his character and he could not longer deny his need to kiss Pocho on his lips.  
Marco leaned in closer and trailed his hand over Pocho's chest and let it rest on his stubbly cheek.

''And what are you going to do about that _Pochito?_ How are you going to punish me for being rude?'' he whispered, lips brushing the shell of Pocho's ear and he felt his friend shiver instantly.

''Stop it Marco, what the hell are you doing?'' he hissed as he tried to move away from Marco but couldn't find the strength to stop touching him.

''I'm hitting on you, I thought that was pretty obvious,'' Marco grinned and Pocho's eyes went huge and he scooted away from his touch.

''It was obvious but it's not obvious as to _why_ you're trying to hit on me,''

''Because I have a crush on you, and I know you have one on me too.

Come on Pocho, we've been dancing around each other for months now. Isn't it time to move on to the next step?'' Marco confessed it without much difficulty, mostly because he knew for a fact that Pocho would feel the same way about him.

''Jesus I don't remember you being _this_ forward before,'' Pocho hissed as he released a giant breath of air.  
''I've always been forward idiot, specially when I've found what I want and I'm looking at it right now,''

Marco cupped Pocho's face with his hands and slowly leaned in to press a soft kiss to Pocho's stubby cheek, the hairs tickling against his lips.

He moved the kiss further south and halted at Pocho's kissable lips.

''If you don't want this just say the wo-'' he started but Pocho had already leaned in and hungrily slipped his lips to Marco's, tasting him, ravaging him without any mercy and Marco could tell he was getting angry with him again, which only turned him on even more.

Pocho's tongue pressed against Marco's lower lip anxiously, waiting for the plump lips to part and finally let him in and Marco, no longer able to deny his desperate need for more obeyed him.

Both of them groaned loud as their tongues met and battles for domination, their lips sucking at every inch of skin there was available.  
''Marco,'' Pocho moaned huskily as he wrapped his arms tighter around Marco's body and pulled him onto his lap.

Marco cradled his friend and tried to pin him as down deep as he could in the soft couch.

Their arms were everywhere, roaming around freely on their hot and hungry bodies, their lips were locked together so long that Marco hoped they would never let go.  
Marco boldly slipped his hands under Pocho's shirt and groaned when he felt the muscles abs under his long fingers.

God he felt so good, how did he feel this good?

Marco knew what he was like, how he was built cause he knew him inside out ( well not yet technically but still ) and yet he was still surprised with the arousal he got from simply running his fingers over Pocho's torso.

''God Ezequiel, you're fucking hot,'' Marco hissed, sucking on a small spot in Pocho's warm neck, hearing his friend groan at the sensation of the sucking kiss.

''You're not so bad yourself you know,'' Pocho retorted, slipping Marco's shirt over his head, revealing the smaller man's pale but taut abdomen.

''Hm kinky,'' Marco hummed happily and he returned the favor by freeing Pocho from his gray shirt before capturing his mouth with his own again, not able to get enough of their hungry and hot kisses.

''Why don't you say we take this upstairs hm?'' Marco whispered as slid his hand to Pocho's erection and stroked it gently, making his lover hiss and moan in the process and he smiled content.

Pocho's eyes however revealed that he wasn't exactly happy with that suggestion because he gently pushed Marco off his lap and put his shirt back on, looking angry and grim again.

''I can't _doucheface_. I gotta go home,'' he snorted with a devilish grin and Marco's eyes widened.  
''What?!''

''I never actually called the babysitter so I gotta be home in a few minutes, but this was fun, we should do it again sometime. When I'm less pissed off with you and you actually deserve to be rewarded for being a good boy,'' he teased as he placed another kiss to Marco's stunned face.

''But-''  
''Ciao sweetheart, call you in the morning,'' Pocho grinned, still enjoying the shocked look on his lover's face as he embraced Marco tight and shot him a cheeky grin.

''Oh come on, don't look at me like that. You know that I can be really mean too don't you? This is your punishment love, for not listening to me tonight. Maybe if you had behaved I would have fucked you, but alas...''

''But you're so hot when you're angry!'' Marco bit out and Pocho stopped in his way out and froze in the doorway.  
''Say what?''

''That was the only reason I went back to annoy the referee, because you were so fucking hot when you were shouting at me. It turned me on and I wanted more so I tried to piss you off even more, which worked seeing how you're so easy to piss off.

So I hoped that we could have some nice angry sex tonight, seeing how I knew you would still be mad at me,'' he confessed and Pocho stared at him for a while before bursting out into laughter.

''Oh Marco, you never seize to amaze me I swear to god,'' he chuckled as he hugged him tight and pressed another kiss to his lips.

''Don't you worry, we will have sex and even angry sex if you want. But not tonight okay, I got to get home. Talk to you tomorrow okay?'' Pocho asked as he cupped Marco's face with his warm hands and pressed two deep kissed to his cheeks.

''Okay I love you Pocho,'' Marco said, feeling shy and stupid all of the sudden and Pocho pressed a searing kiss to his lips again, deepening it for a long time before he released him and pressed one last kiss to his lovers nose.

''I know silly, _I love you too,''_  
And with that gesture he was gone.

And so it began...

 

 

 

 


	2. That's all right because I like the way it hurts.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco gets injured when he's with the Italian National team. 
> 
> He comes home to Paris as a broken man, but luckily he'll always have Pocho.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I needed to write something other than my Cressi story for once which is why I chose to update this one. I still love this bromance a lot and I'm still open to requests about them. 
> 
> Hope you guys like it!

_November, 2015._

 

 

 

As they board the flight back to Paris, Marco receives a text from Pocho. _'Are you okay?'_ it reads and Marco lets out a deep sigh.

No he is most definitely not okay. He is far from it.

Because he knows that he will be out for two months if it's his luck, maybe even longer. 

He knew the moment he went to the grass that his thigh was seriously injured, he could feel it in the painful stretch when the doctor moved his leg around careless like it was laundry in a laundromat.

Marco _hates_ doctors, always has and always will.

He knows they mean well and that a team cannot go without one but ever since he was a child he has been allergic to their condescending tone, their harsh touches, their god complexes and their stupid needles, that they like to shove wherever they please, usually without a warning whatsoever.

Gigi went to see him when he was down, naturally.

While he was hovering over him Marco could see the blue of his captain's eyes reaching a whole new level of concern and he had to restrain himself from snapping at his captain.

He knows that Gigi only means well.

He _knows_ that. But he doesn't want anyone's pity.

Ever since he was a child he hated to be pitied, especially because he is already small enough in size.

The last thing he needs is people treating him like he is a toddler when he is actually an adult.

So Marco held his tongue at his captain and allowed Gigi to cradle him like he was five years old again. Mostly because he respected the man too much to be rude to him.

He loved Gigi, hell they all did.

Gigi was the kind of player who had a certain greatness and elegance in him that Marco could only hope to achieve some day.

Salvatore is sitting in the aisle seat next to Marco and has succumbed to a deep sleep.  
He always fell asleep during flights and Marco eyed him with a sad smile.

Marco puts his earphones on his head and flicks to the last song he needs to hear right now. The text is burning a hole in his heart and he swallows deep.

 _'Just gonna stand there and watch me burn,_  
_That's all right because I like the way it hurts,_  
_Just gonna stand there and hear me cry,_  
_That's all right because I love the way you lie. I love the way you lie,'_

Marco's fingers hover over the key and he really wants to go on to the next song but he can't.

Because this is _their_ song. His and Pocho's.  
He loves and hates it.

Though he mostly loves it.

The lyrics of it resemble their relationship almost too well.

For it is full of ups and down, love and arguments always following each other close behind.

It's always intense and heated and it is exactly how they are.

And Marco wouldn't have it any other way.

So he lets the song play itself out, while flipping through some photos of him, Pocho and his son Tomas, huddled together under the christmas tree last year.

Marco's eyes go soggy easily and he sniffs deep.  
He loves having Tomas in his life, he really brightens up their life.

The young boy almost feels like his own son and adores Marco.

His phone buzzes again when they land and Marco looks up startled, nearly forgetting all about Pocho's text.

 _'Marco, please tell_ _me if you are okay, that's all I'm asking,'_ Pocho's second text reads.  
Marco stares at the screen and groans loud.

He knows he is being a little bitch by not replying but he can't handle his lovers sympathy right now.

So he slides the phone back in his jacket pocket and shuts his eyes, hoping to erase the painful memories of the match.  
A few seconds later his phone starts ringing and Marco feels Salvatore move at his left.

''Are you ever gonna answer that Gufetto?'' he yawns and Marco fishes the phone from his pocket and unlocks the screen.  
It was Pocho, again.

''No,'' he replies as he ignores the call and puts the phone away, guilt building up in his stomach.

''Wow he's really lucky to have you isn't he?'' Salvatore notices dryly and Marco nudges his side with his elbow, making his friend groan, but Marco can tell he is overreacting to make him feel bad.

''Shut up, you don't know anything about our relationship,''  
''Yes I do. You could at least answer his calls Marco, he's just worried about you,''

''I know!'' Marco shouts, and he clasps onto his tired head with his hands.

Salvatore places a large hand on Marco's small one and squeezes it gentle. ''So why are you being such a dick? Just answer your phone, let him know you're all right,''

''Because he will pity me, like you are pitying me right now with your concerned looks! Just stop treating me like a fucking child!'' Marco lashes out but Salvatore isn't impressed.

''The only one who is treating you like a child is _you_ Marco. You are your own worst enemy all right.  
You are so insecure about your size that you think people pity you whenever they feel an emotion toward you. Time to grow up brother. Pocho loves you and he wants to be there for you, like you are always there for him when he gets injured''

Marco purses his lips together and sighs deep.

He knows Salvatore is right, he is right most of the times actually, and he knows he has always had a problem with his small posture.

But he also knows that Pocho loves him no matter what, in fact he often says that he likes that Marco isn't that tall.

During sex their similar hight often works to their advantage and it is probably the only time when Marco is pleased with his height.

Marco knows he is being ridiculous about it but he can't help it.

Continuously being bullied for being so small all the way through school really left a scar on his soul.

Marco clasps Salvatore's hand a little tighter and smiles at his 'big brother,'  
''I know, you're right. Thanks,''

His phone rings again and Marco expects it to be Pocho once again but the screen reads: _'Lorenzo'_

Marco smiles faint and unlocks the screen, hearing the warm voice of his best friend Lorenzo Insigne appearing on the other end of the line.

''Hey Renzo,''

''Ciao Marco, good to hear that you're still alive,'' Lorenzo notices, a hint of sarcasm in his voice and Marco hears a lot of background noise which indicates that his friend has company.

''Why wouldn't I be alive?''  
''Because you're not answering your phone apparently,'' Lorenzo snorts and Marco feels anger rising to his chest.

''Did Pocho call you again?'' he hisses, knowing that whenever Marco was ignoring Pocho, he would reach out to Lorenzo who he used to meddle between them.

Marco hated it when he did that, but a small part of him knew that his stubbornness left Pocho little choice.

Marco could be so thick headed and icy and there was only one person who he could stand in those moments and that was Lorenzo.

Ever calm, never judging him Lorenzo.

''Yes, he said that you're not picking up and he's worried about you. So he asked me to give you a call because he knows you will never ignore me,'' Lorenzo says and Marco can hear the amusement in his voice.

''I _hate_ it when he calls you,'' Marco snaps, clenching his fists together, grinding his teeth angrily.

''I know, but you need to-hold on Marco,'' Lorenzo chirps before saying something to the other people in his living room. ''Yes Pipa take whatever you want, just remember to replace the bottle when you drink all of it,''

''We never drink _all_ of it!'' a lighter voice snarls and Marco recognizes it immediately.

Dries Mertens and Gonzalo Higuain are at Lorenzo's house-again. Emptying the liquor cabinet from the sounds of it.

''Just shut up, I'm on the phone!'' Lorenzo bites back and the voices disappear back into the background and Lorenzo scrapes his throat. ''Sorry about that,'' he says and Marco snorts.

''Are they there again? I thought you were going to stop letting them hide out in your house,''  
''They're not _hiding_ Marco, they are just-''

''Kissing each other until you've gone blind?'' Marco teases and Lorenzo laughs.  
''If only they stopped at that. Nah they just got nowhere to go and be together you know,''

''You do realize that you're basically encouraging Dries to cheat right? You are literally the cheesy hotel they go to for their affair,''  
Lorenzo sighs irritated. ''Don't say it like that Marco, you know I hate cheaters,''

''And yet you allow them to do it in your house,''

''It's complicated okay, just let it go for now. Stop trying to change the subject off you onto them. I'm not _that_ stupid Marco, I've known you forever and misleading me off the actual topic is one of your many talents,'' Lorenzo chides.

When Marco stays silent Lorenzo continues his rant. ''Just call your fucking boyfriend okay? Stop being such a bitch and call him. Have you guys landed yet?''  
''Yes we just landed,''

''So get your bags, move your ass out of that plane and go find Pocho! I'm too tired to get anymore calls from him tonight. He's not nearly as fun as you always say he is,'' Lorenzo says and at those insulting words Marco sees red.

''Don't you _dare_ talk about him like that!!! He's goddamn perfect!! Damn you Renzo, don't piss me off!'' he shouts, his voice so loud it startles some of the stewardesses who were busy with sliding the door open.

Lorenzo laughs soft and triumphant. ''See? You _love_ him. Now grow up and call him before my eightieth birthday comes and goes,''  
''Bastard,''

''You love me,''  
''Unfortunately I do yes,''

''Love you too Gufetto,''  
''Bye Renzo, and thanks,''

Marco puts his phone down and stares at Salvatore who is busying himself by taking Marco's suitcase from the overhead lockers.

He stares at him for a while and sees Salvatore placing their bags in front of him, placing Marco's backpack on his back while he puts his own across his chest.

He takes the crutches and holds them in his left hand while he offers Marco his right. ''Come on _peanut_ , time to get you home,'' he smiles, his voice soft and gentle and Marco can't help it.

Salvatore is looking like a packed mule with all that luggage tied to his body and Marco knows it must be heavy for him to carry for he always packs too many books in his suitcase but his friend is not even complaining.

He wants Marco to be as pain free as possible which is why he is treating him so delicately.

And when it comes to Salvatore, Marco has no defense and _always_ lets him.  
Because deep down he still sees Salvatore as his big brother.

He loves him from the bottom of his heart.

He has never had a problem with Salvatore cradling him and treating him like his little brother. He is different from all of his other teammates.

Marco even lets Salvatore call him peanut when they are alone, and a big part of him adores that nickname.

Though he would never admit that out loud. Ever.  
He is far too proud for that.

So he takes Salvatore's offered hand and allows him to lift him to his feet while he hands him the crutches. Marco's wobbly on them and it takes a while to find his balance.

Salvatore never let's go of his arm until he is certain Marco is not going to fall.

''Ready? Are you good?'' he asks and Marco feels so overwhelmed with a sudden wave of love for his friend that he releases the crutches and collapses into the goalies powerful arms.

''I love you Siri,'' he chokes out, while tears roll down his cheeks and he feels the surprised arms come around his shoulders and holding him tight.  
''Love you too peanut,''

''You are such a good friend,'' Marco says and Salvatore smiles into his hair.  
''So are you,''

''I hope so,''  
''You are,''

''Can you do something for me?'' Marco squeaks, voice thinner than air.  
''Of course,''

''I need Pocho, can you um, drive me to his house?''

Salvatore nods slow and wipes the tears from Marco's pale cheeks and cradles his face with his warm hands.

He places a soft peck to Marco's forehead and hands him his crutches.  
''Of course I can,''

They leave the plane together and when they arrive at the arrival hall a familiar face is standing there, waiting for them.

Pocho is standing in the middle of the abandoned hall of Charles de Gaulle, wearing his long black jacket, his worn out jeans and that stupid black hat Marco hates so much, but he has never been happier to see him.

He rushes forward as fast as the stupid crutches can carry him and he is met halfway by Pocho who nearly runs to him and collides with Marco's exhausted body.

There are still some passengers walking around in the hall so Marco knows he can't risk it to kiss Pocho the way he needs to, so he settles for two deep kisses to his cheeks and nestles his head on Pocho's shoulder.

He's struggling against his tears already.

Pocho's arms are tight around his shivering body and Marco welcomes the warmth, taking in Pocho's intoxicating scent inch by inch.

Marco hasn't seen him in almost two weeks and he has been so lonely without him. So utterly miserable.

''Oh god I missed you so much,'' Marco chokes out, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Pocho snorts soft and cups his cheek with his strong hand. ''You have an odd way of showing it,''

''Not now love, _please_. Just let me off the hook for now okay?'' Marco begs. He is so not in the mood to argue with Pocho right now, even though he knows that he has  
acted like an utter shit and that he deserves to be treated a little poorly.

''I'm just saying-''

Marco presses his finger to Pocho's lips and silences him. ''Please don't. I know I've been a jerk okay, Renzo already told me and so did Siri. I'm an asshole and I let my stupid childhood complexes rule over my emotions.  
I'm _sorry_ all right, I really am. Next time I will answer my phone like any mature adult would do,''

Pocho eyes him carefully, his dark eyes shimmering quite a bit, narrowing themselves critically but after a short silence the light appears in them again and Pocho smiles soft.

''All right, I forgive you-again,'' he teases, a hint of his mischief returning on his face.  
That was one of the qualities that Marco liked most about him.

The fact that Pocho could never stay angry at someone for very long.

He always forgave people very easily.

Marco could though. He sometimes held onto grudges for years but Pocho was much easier.

Things rolled off him like water rolled off a duck.  
''Thank you,'' Marco grins and he releases Pocho and leans down on his crutches again while Pocho hugs Salvatore.

''Wait, how did you even know where to find us?'' Marco asks confused and Pocho nods sideways to Salvatore.  
''You're not the only one with a phone Gufetto,'' he smirks.

Marco stares betrayed at Salvatore and folds his arms together. ''You could have told me that he was coming to meet us here!''

''What? And miss the surprised look on your face? Never,'' the goalie laughs.  
Marco grits his teeth together and sighs.

''Fine, can we please just go home?'' he asks Pocho who takes his backpack and his suitcase in his arms and walks ahead of Marco.

''Yes, we are going home,''

They say goodbye to Salvatore and as they walk back to Pocho's Ferrari a knot forms itself in Marco's stomach.

He knows that they are going to have to talk about it.

Despite his apology to his lover, Marco knows that it probably isn't over yet.  
As always, the calm before he storm puts him more on edge than their actual fight does.

The sheer anticipation of not knowing what he could expect always killed Marco a little.  
Pocho loads the luggage in the trunk and helps Marco sit down at the passenger seat.

He even buckles his seatbelt for him, leaning over him so close that their chests touch briefly. Marco feels a lump form in his throat and he swallows heavily.

The tension that is lingering in the air is almost too much to handle. Too thick with emotion. Too intense.

Pocho sits back in the drivers seat, drives out of the garage and puts some music on to defuse the tension.

Only he picks the only song that is able to send Marco from being a normal human being to a emotional wreck. He picks _their_ song.

Of course he does, that insufferable bastard.

As the lyrics of Rihanna and Eminem go by, Marco feels tears dropping down on his cheeks.  
Heavy tears.

They are landing almost like bullets, burning a whole in his chest.  
Pocho stretches his hand out to Marco and places his right onto Marco's left and holds it tight.

He doesn't say anything, there is no need for words.  
As Marco gazes to his left he sees Pocho smiling at him.

He pulls the car up at an exit off the freeway and parks it near a road restaurant. ''What are you-'' Marco starts but Pocho leans over his seat and clasps onto his collar, smashing their lips together more hungrily than Marco has ever experienced before.

Pocho's tongue eagerly parts Marco's lips and they both groan when their heated tongue's meet somewhere in the middle of their collided lips.

''God,'' Pocho moans and he slides his hands through Marco's hair, furiously nipping at his lower lip, biting and sucking on it desperately.

''I missed you so much,'' Marco confesses as he leaves a trail of heated kisses in Pocho's warm neck.

''I know, it was almost _unbearable_ this time,'' Pocho agrees, an uncharacteristic sadness displayed in his eyes and he sighs deep, pressing his forehead to Marco's and presses scorching kisses along his cheek until he reaches his jawline. 

Only Pocho can make him feel so _loved_ , so desired and so respected.

Because Pocho loves all of him, his insecurities, his imperfections _and_ his fiery temper.

He has been there in the good times and in the bad and he has never deserted Marco, not once. 

Marco doesn't think he can ever tell his lover in words how much he truly loves him. He can only show him by loving him with all his heart. 

''Take me home,'' Marco pleads, basically vibrating with the need to be even closer to his lover.

Pocho enlaces their fingers together, resting their hands on his chest. He leans in and presses a feather light kiss to Marco's soft lips. 

And so he does.

He brings Marco home.

In more ways than one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Marco doesn't have his son in this story and Pocho does. 
> 
> Also Salvatore is a sweetheart and I really see him as Marco's older brother. They are so cute together. 
> 
> I hope this was okay. Let me know <3

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think guys, I always like writing new couples. <3


End file.
